Page 92 of The Publicity Stunt

April’s eyes fill with concern. “Parker?”

“You want to marry me?”

“You don’t?” she asks.

My mouth opens but no words come out. So I just nod.

April’s smile slowly turns into a laugh and she launches herself at me, hugging me so tightly, I think I let out a small squeal. “Then of course, I do, you idiot!”

I think I’m still in shock. “Okay.”

She pulls back, her face beaming. “Are we really doing this? We’re getting married?”

The word “married” coming from her mouth sets something loose inside my chest and I break out in an equally idiotic grin. “Sort of have to now.”

“I’m a fiancée?”

That single word makes my heart swell up like a damn helium balloon. “So am I.”

“Why don’t I get a ring?”

“You’ll get one. I just need to find a job first.”

“This is so weird,” she says after a long beat.

“I could make you a paper ring in the meantime.”

“No, not that.” April blinks a few times, her hands trembling. “It’s weird that this doesn’t feel weird. I don’t feel like I just got proposed to.”

“You most certainly did,” I tell her. “I can ask you again if you like.”

“No, as in … I’m not freaking out. Don’t people normally cry? I feel like you just asked me to get McDonald’s with you or something. Why am I not freaking out about this? It doesn’t feel real.”

The room goes quiet for a minute. Then I reach out for the bedside table and the Sharpie on top of it. “This is as real as it gets, Chere,” I grab her left hand and scribble my last name around her ring finger. “But if you compare my proposal to a McDonald’s order again, I’m gonna sell your SDCC ticket to a stranger and ask for a divorce.”

April shakes her head, trying not to smile. “You’re an idiot, Hayden Parker.”

“Maybe.” I take her face between my hands and start kissing the life out of her. April laughs into my mouth and my pulse soars. “But I’m your idiot, April Moore.”

ChapterTwenty-One

Present Day

APRIL

“What do you mean, there’s no booking for April Moore?” I ask, frantically trying to pull up the reservation. The doe-eyed receptionist looks at Parker for help and he shrugs. Two bellhops in pristine dark-blue uniforms scour the lobby, wheeling the baggage carts, most of which are empty since it’s one in the morning.

“I’m deeply sorry, ma’am,” she says, not sounding deeply sorry at all. “I have the list open on my computer and there’s nothing under that name.”

I look up from my inbox. “How is that even possible? I have the reservation on my phone,” I say, thrusting my phone into her face. She simply goes on staring at my screen for the next three seconds and I let out a sharp exhale. It’s late and I’m too tired to argue further. All said and done, a six-hour flight is exhausting, and sitting next to Parker only worsened the situation. Well, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have insisted on taking the window seat. Every time I got up to go to the bathroom, I had to do so by going over him. My thighs over his hips, throw in a little turbulence, and that equals a raging female boner. And of course, his wasn’t that subtle either. I would’ve switched seats, but he knows I hate the aisle, and my brain wasn’t exactly working at full power to think of an alternate excuse.

“Fine, if you don’t have my room, then just give me another. Anything will do.” I’ll deal with the logistics in the morning.

“Oh, we’re fully booked this weekend. But I can suggest nearby hotels.”

“Not needed.” Parker steps forward and casually grabs the handle of my suitcase. “She’ll stay with me.”

Shewill? I turn to face him and he shoots the receptionist an apologetic smile (totally undeserved) and starts walking toward the elevators. “Parker, you don’t have to do that. I can find another hotel.”